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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639317">Aurochs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka'>yeaka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:07:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639317</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompto runs into a blitzball player.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Aurochs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV, X, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Galdin Quay is absolutely gorgeous in the morning light, lit up by an unfettered sun and only littered with a scant few early risers, and Prompto’s not enjoying any of it the way he’s supposed to be.</p><p>He’s enjoying it in his own way, just through glass, glued behind his camera because he can’t bring himself to put it down. He hasn’t technically taken a vacation in years, longer than most of his peers, because his parents were never around long enough to take him anywhere when he was young. Then he grew up and wanted his own apartment and had to work full time to manage both that and university, and his would-be side-gig has eaten up all his weekends. But he earned the extra cash, burnt himself out, decided to take some time off, took a cab down and pitched a tent. He can barely even afford lunch at the resort, let alone a room. Sleeping under the stars and swimming in the sun should’ve been enough. But Prompto’s parked himself on a towel and resumed the job he actually wants: photography.</p><p>In his defense, he’s getting some <i>amazing</i> photographs. His portfolio’s going to be exponentially better when he gets back to town and prints them out. He takes shots of the mountains behind him, the rolling hills of grass dying into fresh sand, the water washing over the horizon and melding with the clear blue sky. Every once in a while, he scrolls over people, but unless they’re turned around or far enough away to be indistinguishable, he doesn’t take the shot—he doesn’t involve strangers without their permission.</p><p>Then his panning gaze stops on a figure mid-way out in the water, and Prompto actually gets <i>chills</i>, because he’s just found the ultimate model.</p><p>He doesn’t even normally use models. The only real shots of people he has are selfies. He doesn’t have enough friends for more. Doesn’t have any muses. But that guy wading in the middle of nowhere is like Shiva’s styling on Ifirit’s abs—the embodiment of beauty. And he’s just playing around in the water on a random sunny day. Prompto couldn’t explain it if he wanted to. It’s an artist thing. It doesn’t matter that he’s so far away Prompto can barely make out his face. Prompto’s soul is singing. That guy belongs in portraits. That guy’s <i>art</i>.</p><p>He could be in Prompto’s art. For a few fleeting seconds, Prompto seriously struggles with his own convictions. He wants that guy’s picture. Badly. <i>Very badly</i>. He wants that slick black-blue hair and pale skin and lean figure all over his portfolio. A white-blue beach-ball pokes out of the water next to him, and Prompto zooms in to recognize a blitzball. His heart skips. <i>He knows how to play blitzball.</i> Not well, but enough. It’s an opening. The guy’s totally alone, and too far away to call friends from the beach or resort, so he hasn’t got anybody else to practice with. Maybe he’d welcome Prompto. Except Prompto’s a total loser who could never make it onto any real blitzball team, and that guy knows what he’s doing, if the way he expertly kicks the ball onto his head and bounces it is anything to go by.</p><p>Prompto wavers, slowly lowering his camera, just drinking the guy in with his eyes. He should’ve worn contacts or brought glasses. He doesn’t really need them in day to day life, but they help with distances. But contacts might wash out in the water and the only pair of glasses he has makes him look like a dork. The guy’s already way out of his league. <i>But he’s so cool</i>. He submerges beneath the surface, only to leap out like a dolphin and send the ball flying into the air, straight up, at a perfect ninety degree angle. Super cool. Prompto needs that coolness in his life.</p><p>He sucks in a breath and shoves his camera into his bag, leaving it on the towel. Galdin’s a pretty safe place—it probably won’t get stolen. Normally, he wouldn’t take the chance. For the perfect model, he has to.</p><p>He tries to jog nonchalantly down the beach, like he’s not nursing a bad instant crush. No one pays any attention to him. He wades out into the tepid tide, starts paddling, starts swimming, and the guy glances over and stills. Prompto stops like he’s facing a skittish cat. He doesn’t want it to run off before he can pet it. But the cat doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, so he dives under and books it. </p><p>He emerges a couple arms’ lengths away from the man, and then he splutters and reels back enough to splash water in his mouth and have to spit it out again. He’s abruptly blushing and breathing hard with shame and even worse off. No wonder he was so drawn to the stranger. The man stops playing with the blitzball and slots it under one arm, floating on it as he paddles up to Prompto. It’s all Prompto can do to keep afloat. Familiar ice-blue eyes bore into him, peaking out from a swathe of jet-black hair soaked down around a handsome face. A <i>ridiculously</i> handsome face. And handsome body. A mostly naked body. Prompto’s used to seeing it in a full uniform, all covered up in black fabric with just a few slits and holes to show off tantalizing peeks at well-toned muscles. But Noctis Lucis Caelum only seems to be in swim trunks like Prompto’s. </p><p>Noctis grunts, “Hey,” in as chill a voice as he uses in interviews. </p><p>“Dude,” Prompto breathes, which is so stupid, but it’s already come out and he can’t stop himself. “Dude, I’m your biggest fan!”</p><p>Noctis frowns. <i>Noctis Lucis Caelum</i>. For real. In real life. Not on the screen or across a stadium. The star player of the Insomnia Abes, the best blitzball team in Eos. </p><p>For all his fame and fortune, Noctis has never looked particularly into the limelight. While other players on his team might smirk or flex or offer an autograph, Noctis just wades there, staring levelly at Prompto, waiting for more. Probably not more gushing. But Prompto does it anyway.</p><p>“You’re, like, my total hero. Uh, I mean, I’m sure everyone says that, but... seriously, you’re great! But... you know you’re great... uh... hi? I just... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to jump on you—I swear I didn’t recognize you when I started swimming over—I mean, not that you’re not recognizable; I totally know who you are! But my camera only zooms so far and—shit, I wasn’t trying to creep pictures or anything, I swear—I’m a photographer, or, uh, I want to be a photographer—I’m supposed to be on vacation but figured I’d get some landscape shots—not because you’re here! I didn’t even know you’d be here! I’m not that kind of fan! I mean, yeah, I follow you, but you don’t post a lot and I don’t follow your coach or anything—uh, no offense, he’s cool, uh, I just—I saw you out here and didn’t wanna take pics without permission so I figured I’d ask—but like, I know you don’t like those, so never mind, I won’t—not ‘cause I don’t want to, obviously I want to, you’re super hot—shit—uh—”</p><p>The more he babbles, the more Noctis’ features melt, and he’s almost smiling at the end, even though Prompto’s being <i>such an idiot</i> and can’t seem to help himself. Then something brushes his leg and he flails in the water, cutting himself off when his head submerges enough to swallow. He belatedly remembers <i>he’s in the water</i> so it was probably just a fish. Or Noctis’ foot bumping into his ankle. If it was Noctis touching him, he’ll never wash his leg again. Except he’s already in the water so the touch has already washed away. </p><p>Spitting the water back out and then feeling even worse for it, Prompto weakly mumbles, “I can swim, I swear.” </p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>Prompto hollowly echoes, “Cool.”</p><p>Full on grinning, Noctis jousts, “Cooler.”</p><p>“You’re cooler.”</p><p>Noctis snorts. Prompto wants Leviathan to come and eat him. But maybe after Noctis swims off to go warn his teammates about the crazy blond on the beach. Prompto has to soak up this magical once-in-a-lifetime chance he’s totally blowing first.</p><p>“So...” Noctis slowly checks, “You’re <i>not</i> asking to take pictures of me?”</p><p>Prompto’s cheeks are full on red. “Uh... I guess not?” Even though he wants to more than anything in the world. He wants to immortalize this moment, even though it’s the most embarrassing one of his life.</p><p>“But you’re a fan. You follow a lot of celebrities, or...?”</p><p>“Some, I guess? You’re my favourite? But like, not ‘cause you’re the biggest celebrity—I mean, famous? I mean, I only started getting into blitzball recently, but it’s ‘cause a buddy showed me one of your matches and you were just... so super awesome about it? Like, I didn’t even know some of that shit was physically possible! I still don’t get how a Regis Shot even works—how’d you even come up with that? It’s like something out of Justice Knight Melee!”</p><p>Noctis’ eyes open a fraction wider, and he ignores the praise in favour of: “You play Justice Knight?”</p><p>“Oh, totally, I’ve been playing King’s Knight for years, and Justice Monsters is so cool, so when they combined them—”</p><p>“Yeah, they took both their biggest strengths. The Justice Monsters characters are way more involved, but the King’s Knight level up system is way better—”</p><p>“I know, right! And there’s just so much else in it too! I’ve been saving up <i>forever</i> to get the DLC—”</p><p>“Dude, you <i>gotta</i> get the DLC.”</p><p>“I knooow! I wanna play as Sora so bad!”</p><p>“Oh, man, I main Sora every time! Like, I had the game anyway, but as soon as they added the extra characters—I mean, I get why some people complain that it doesn’t make sense—”</p><p>“Dude, it totally makes sense! Sora practically lives in other people’s worlds!”</p><p>“Exactly, that’s what I said! It’s not like that weird summer event where there were just chocobos around that didn’t even match the graphic style—”</p><p>“But chocobos are amazing!” Prompto squawks, suddenly devastated, because they were on such a roll, but chocobo love trumps everything else. Noctis rolls his eyes.</p><p>“No way. It was just a cash grab. And that’s coming from a guy with cash.”</p><p>“But you got a chocobo hat with it!”</p><p>Noctis laughs, and it’s the most glorious sound Prompto’s ever heard. He’s <i>never</i> seen Noctis laugh like that. He doesn’t even remember seeing Noctis smile, not even when he won the cup last year. But the whole video game rant has him lit up like a lantern. He’s glistening with little flecks like crystals and the sparkling reflection off the water. There’s a moment where Prompto’s just staring at him, soaking him in, and Noctis looks back in the same silent understanding.</p><p>Then Noctis quietly asks, “D’you play?”</p><p>“Yeah, of course. Wait, you mean the DLC stuff? Like the original Kingdom Hearts? Yeah, I played all of them—and I <i>wish</i> there was a chocobo video game—like a proper one, a full on RPG or something, not like the weird Kenny Crow promotional platformer thing—”</p><p>Noctis snorts and interrupts, “Nah, blitzball.”</p><p>“Oh! Yeah. I mean, compared to you, no. Like... I try. I wanna be better, I just suck at holding my breath and I guess I’m not smart enough for underwater physics, but I wanna learn—”</p><p>“I could teach you a few moves.”</p><p>“<i>Seriously</i>?” Because not only would that be wicked cool, but that would mean more time with Noctis, which would just be absolutely everything Prompto ever wanted out of life.</p><p>“Yeah, I was hoping to just dick around before Iggy figures out I snuck out and drags me back for drills—but I don’t mind squeezing in practice if it’s casual and fun.”</p><p>“I am the ultimate casual and swear on my love of chocobos to be super fun.” While Noctis ‘pfft’s, Prompto processes and checks, “Wait, you snuck out?” He has no idea who ‘Iggy’ is, except maybe it’s short for ‘Ignis,’ and that’s what the Abes’ coach is called. He thinks. Or maybe it was Gladio. Or maybe Gladio was one of the other players. Every time he watches a match, he focuses so much on Noctis that everything else fades away. </p><p>“Yeah. He’s always on my ass about caution and propriety and work ethic and shit. Honestly I just wanted a nap, but couldn’t figure out where to hide. ‘Least I can duck underwater if he comes out.”</p><p>“You can hide in my tent if you want.” It’s out of Prompto’s mouth before he can stop it. Noctis blinks and tilts his head. At least he doesn’t look as scandalized as he should be. Prompto meekly adds, “Uh, just... y’know... throwing that out there. I promise I’m not tryina lure you back to kill you or anything.”</p><p>“Didn’t think you were, until you said it.”</p><p>“Damn!”</p><p>Just like that, Noctis is grinning again, and Prompto is too, because it’s infectious. Except Noctis swims a few paces back, and it takes every ounce of willpower Prompto has not to follow. The blitzball pops out of the water between them, bobbing like a low-riding buoy.</p><p>“Tell you what, how about a quick game first, ‘cause I wanna see how you play. If I win, I get to nap in your tent, and if you win you, can take all the photos you like.”</p><p>“While you’re napping?”</p><p>Noctis chortles, “Sure, weirdo.”</p><p>Prompto’s blushing but grinning and <i>so</i> happy. Honestly, he would’ve agreed to anything, even if Noctis’ victory meant ripping out his heart and sacrificing it to the Astral of blitzball. “Alright, I’m game.”</p><p>“Hi game, I’m Noct.”</p><p>“Holy shit. You did not just make that joke.”</p><p>“I’m ashamed of myself. Seriously though, what’s your name?”</p><p>He trips over his own tongue in answering, “Prompto. Prompto Argentum.”</p><p>“Cute, wanna have lunch later, if Iggy’ll let me, Prompto?”</p><p>“Fuck. <i>Yeah</i>.”</p><p>“Awesome. Your serve.” And he bops the ball over to Prompto.</p><p>It hits him smack in the forehead, one of the rounded points digging into his skull, but he doesn’t even care. He has terrible reflexes and a new head wound, but he also has the hottest double-gamer ever smiling right in his face, so he can still die happy.</p>
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